A Step in Time
by sabrachoso
Summary: Four years after the war, Draco and Hermione must return to their unfinished seventh year of Hogwarts in order to fulfill a past they can't remember, and keep their timeline safe.
1. THE UNFORTUNATELY NECESSARY STORY SETUP

CHAPTER ONE: THE UNFORTUNATELY NECESSARY STORY SET-UP CHAPTER

"I beg your pardon, but I'm not quite sure I understand…" the young witch seemed to choose her words with the utmost care as she said them. One slender eyebrow arched upwards on her heart-shaped face and she shifted uncomfortably, small hands folded in her lap and ankles crossed beneath the chair.

"You want me to do _what_?" the fair-haired wizard's voice was indignant, dropping his characteristic condescending drawl in favor of complete and total disbelief. "Listen, when I agreed to help you lot years ago, it was not so I could be put into _ridiculous_ situations like this. The war has been over for over three years, you won, so why must you keep dredging up dodgy little excuses to drag me back into your little club?"

"I realize it seems far-fetched but the evidence is becoming increasingly incontrovertible," the worn-down wizard sitting across from her frowned, rubbing the back of his head as he leaned forward and took one of her hands in his. "I know this is a lot to ask, but it seems as though there's absolutely no alternative."

"If I do this," he said, drawl returning and thickening his tongue. Long fingers slipped in his hair as he slouched down into his chair, turning his nose upward and looking very much like a little boy despite his age. Lanky legs bent at the knee and sprawled out before him.

"_If_ I do this," he began once more for emphasis, "you and your silly little Order will leave me alone?"

"Indubitably," the older man agreed, steepling his fingers, elbows resting on the desk at which he was seated. The enormous fire behind him in tandem with the bright read of his hair gave his head the appearance of being aflame. This mirage was far more amusing than it should have been to the young man he was addressing. "Complete this task successfully and consider your debt to the Order repaid. We will never again seek your assistance in any matters."

"Well, that" the young man said with a cheeky smile, pulling himself up in his chair and tucking one of his long legs over the other, "sounds like a cause I can rally behind…"

"And there's nobody else who can accompany me? It _has_ to be him?" the brunette asked, her expression pained as she turned her eyes away from the older gentleman who was kindly holding her hand in reassurance. Her teeth gently gnawed on her bottom lip, expression akin to one who was about to undergo a very unpleasant root canal, sans-anesthesia.

"Unfortunately so," her companion's frown deepened in understanding of her discomfort, "from what we've uncovered it absolutely must be the two of you, and things must transpire as they did before. Time's iffy, but if this is the way things were always supposed to happen, then it shouldn't be too difficult for you to follow the same path successfully as you did before, even with such a teammate…"

"I know, Remus, I understand my duty. It's just that he's so difficult to work with! He's arrogant, brutish, an insufferable snob-"

"-a goody-two-shoes, and a damned unbearable know-it-all!" the young wizard's temper was beginning to get the better of him, and he'd even raised a bit out of his chair, tapping the large oak desk currently occupied by one Arthur Weasley in order to accentuate each accusation. "Isn't there any other way?"

"I'm afraid not, Draco. You two will just have to put away your differences in order to focus on the task at hand. I know it's cliché, but the fate of the world very well may rest in both of your hands." Arthur slid his glasses off, rubbing the bridge of his nose gingerly. It seemed a daunting truth, and one that he didn't care to admit to. It seemed impossible that this had already happened. Surely they'd made a mistake, for as he explained the situation to the younger wizard it seemed even more unlikely that two people who bickered so often and so violently could hold the key to the Order's victory within their teamwork.

But it was highly unlikely that they'd made a mistake in their research. They'd spent over a year trying to figure it all out. Why the students of Hogwarts remembered the presence of Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger. Why they had led as Head Boy and Girl for a final year of school that neither could recall completing. And, ultimately why the duplicate versions of themselves had never stepped forward and explained. It all seemed farfetched and confusing, but when, three years into Reconstruction after the war, Remus Lupin and the rest of the wizarding world began to feel uncomfortable and unexplainable shifts in the air around them, it was clear that there was something to the story.

"Fine," Draco huffed, throwing himself back in his seat and crossing his arms like a child rather than the twenty-one-year-old man that he was. "Just tell me once more, clearly, what it is I must do."

"The students who attended Hogwarts in what should have been your final year all attest to the presence of both you and Mr. Malfoy as acting Heads of the school. I believe that the recent uncanny events could be the consequence of your lingering in this time, and not having returned yet to the beginning of your seventh year, four years ago. Should you and Draco not return to fulfill this timeline, then there's really no telling what will happen. An entirely new alternate timeline could take over in which Voldemort wins and the world burns. There's really no way to tell, nor any way to tell why you were sent back in the first place. All we know is that in the timeline existing now, you and Draco travel back in time and take your position at school."

It was Hermione's turn to frown, and she turned her eyes back up to look into those of her former teacher. "So you're saying that unless I go back into time with that brat and act as Head Girl, for whatever reason it is ultimately that we were sent back, this timeline could be drastically altered?"

Remus nodded gravely, "exactly. It's difficult to tell what may happen, but it could be a number of things really. In that alternate timeline, I could be dead! Or Tonks! Or Fred! Or maybe even Hedwig!"

Hermione shook her head, smiling slightly to the old werewolf. She could tell Remus was trying to cheer her up, but the thought brought a tinge of sadness to her features. "Well that would all be horrible and needless indeed. And I can't imagine what point there would be in any of those deaths, besides bringing pain into all of our hearts…"

"Right," Malfoy said, standing up and cracking his knuckles uncouthly. "Well, I s'pose I'd better go start packing so I can finally wash your little boy scout troop out of my hair."

"Very well," Arthur replied, tactfully ignoring his insults as the rest of the group had learned to do in the years that they'd known him. "Be in the first floor sitting room packed and ready to go at seven o'clock tomorrow morning."

"Seven?" Draco whined, huffing once again like a ten-year-old boy. Since the war was over and he'd become an adult, to use the word loosely, and something of a wealthy playboy he had kept a very erratic and rather irresponsible sleep schedule. Seven A.M. was an hour he hadn't seen since his school days, and it was a reunion he was not looking forward to. But Arthur gave him an exasperated but firm father-type look and Draco, waving his hands in resignation, left and made his way out onto the landing of Grimmauld Place and making his way down the stairs and for the front door as swiftly as possible. He desperately needed to be rid of Potter's blissful little marital den, headquarters still of the repulsive and archaic Order of the Phoenix.

"Seven," Hermione repeated to herself, looking down at her wristwatch. It was three in the afternoon, which lent her very little time to pack, but she'd gone on worse time in emergencies. Especially in the very year to which she was returning. Thinking of that time was painful, and it was difficult to believe that she was voluntarily going back to the most strenuous year of her life, but it might not be so bad. After all, she wouldn't be travelling the countryside in ramshackle tents searching for Horcruxes this time; she'd be at Hogwarts, where she had a warm bed and regular meals. And it might not be so bad to actually get to finish up her tenure at school.

"I know it's tough, Mione," Remus said, standing up and helping her from her seat. As he led her to the door he tucked her arm through his, patting her hand tenderly. "But we all appreciate your dedication and sacrifice. I don't know how things went in this past of yours, but from the way the fabric of time itself has been moving lately, I imagine it's extremely important. I have the utmost faith in you and-"

Lupin paused for a moment, screwing up his face as he tugged open the door. Changing his mind, he patted her hand once again, smiling and laughing bashfully. "Well, I have the utmost faith in you."

Hermione couldn't help but laugh. She hugged her old friend, stepping out onto the landing and making her way down the steps for the front door of Grimmauld Place. The heat from the dog days of summer was still resonating painfully throughout all England, and she braced herself for the wave of heat as she pulled open the heavy door.

What she had not braced herself for, however, was the form of a very tall and recognizable blonde-haired man standing right before her, smoke from his Madame Bathilda's Premium Wizarding Cigarette curling up around his handsome face. Hermione couldn't help but grimace.

"Oh, feck," Draco let slip, rolling his eyes and turning away from the door. That's what he got for pausing to have a smoke break right in front of the house filled with the people he despised most in the world. It was his own bloody fault. With a groan he pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes tightly as if fending off a dreadful headache.

"Listen, Granger, despite agreeing to one of the stupidest missions I've sacrificed my happiness for in the past few years I was having a pretty decent day, so do you mind moving along and not sullying it with your harpy-ish voice?" There, now that got his point across quite nicely.

When he re-opened his eyes Hermione looked absolutely appalled. At first sight, she had planned on just ignoring him and moving along with little more than a "Oh, hello there, you obnoxious prick", but this was inexcusable. Draco tried very hard not to giggle, as her expression really rather resembled that of some sort of ridiculous codfish.

"Why, you insolent little weasel!" she cried out, voice raising to the unbearable level that Malfoy had warned her against.

"Ah," he said, wincing and turning his pinky in his ear as though she'd damaged his eardrums, "there it is."

It was Hermione's turn to roll her eyes, and she threw her hair over her shoulder, jutting her hip out to the side and crossing her leg. In spite of himself Draco noticed just how pleasant her hair looked today, a mass of natural-looking curls framing her face rather nicely. Or maybe that was just the heat fucking with his head. Yeah, that was vastly more likely. He also couldn't help but take note of the fact that she wasn't wearing makeup, and that she was wearing a t-shirt and jean shorts. Had she no class at all? How difficult was it to throw on a nice little sundress?

"Look, Malfoy," she spat acid out with his name, "I realize we abhor each other's presence-"

"There are no words strong enough." Malfoy reaffirmed her, nodding his head in agreement. At least they could agree on _something_.

"-but it is gravely important that we work together for this mission. So if you could manage not to be an audacious ass the entire time that would be just grand with me." Hermione finished with a self-satisfactory nod, attempting to cross her arms to make her point but upon realizing they were already crossed simply moving them a bit and nodding firmly.

"An audacious ass? _Moi?_" Malfoy attempted to act hurt, but was really more amused with her impressive and flamboyant use of alliteration. And she called _him _audacious. He inhaled deeply on his cigarette, feeling the magical smoke, this one gingerbread flavored, fill his lungs before blowing the long stream of it into Granger's face.

"Yes," Hermione said, screwing her face up and fanning her hand in to rid herself of the offending smoke, "_vous_."

"Must we draw out this interaction?" Draco asked with a smirk, glancing once at Hermione before turning his gaze to the Muggle flats across from them. "If we're going to be spending the next, well Merlin knows how long amount of time together, I'm going to need some time to steel myself for _that_ torture."

Hermione's eyes boggled at that, and paired with her round face and her curly mane it made her look rathermuch like a very small and hilarious woodland creature. As Malfoy turned his attention back to her he couldn't help but snort, stifling his laughter with the heel of his hand and starting to choke on the cigarette smoke he'd just inhaled. Hermione cried out, incensed, throwing her hands up and stomping off for the alleyway they used as an Apparition point.

Draco's obnoxious mix of hacking and guffawing didn't wane until he heard the _pop!_ of her Disapparation, and as the dying bits of laughter fell from his lips he threw his cigarette butt onto the ground, as it had begun to glow purple to warn him it was time to say goodbye. Stamping it out with the toe of his far-too-expensive dragon leather shoe, Draco wiped the small collection of tears that had formed in the corners of his eyes, sighing and smiling to himself before shaking his head lightly in a mix of emotions. He was a fucking loon to have agreed to this, and he knew it. More likely than not the Order would have eventually backed down and let him have his peace, but for reasons unbeknownst to him Draco felt it pertinent to accept this assignment. Maybe it was the egotistical truth that the fate of the world currently rest in his hands. Draco enjoyed any opportunity to stroke his ever-growing ego.

Did it matter why he'd accepted the assignment? The truth of the matter was, at _seven a.m._ (ugh) tomorrow morning he was taking off on a blast to the past with Potty's go-to girl and the bane of his existence. For an unknown period of time. Potentially lasting up to four years…

…

_Fuck_.


	2. SOME LIKE IT HOT

CHAPTER TWO: SOME LIKE IT HOT

"This is _bullshit_, Hermione! Bullshit!" Hermione winced as the door to her bedroom was torn open with a very loud bang, a gangly red-headed man interrupting her packing angrily. As he took in the sight of her clothes spread over the bed and her old Hogwarts trunk sitting at her feet, his eyes seemed to pop even further out of his head. She had to stifle her laughter as he reminded her of one of those squeezable Muggle stress toys.

"Honestly, Ron, calm down. I know it's a big deal but there are much more important things at stake here. Like the entirety of space and time as we know it."

Ron paused, pursing his lips as he contemplated what she'd said. He looked very cartoonish standing there, his expression rather like an angry caveman trying to interpret the words that had just come out of her mouth. His eyebrows knit together and he huffed like a child, obviously trying to decide whether he should attempt to be reasonable and understanding, or go into a rage like he wanted to. Hermione could practically see the cogs in his brain turning as he attempted to make a decision. It wasn't until she turned and began folding clothes once more that he moved, angered by her insistence on packing.

"Yeah, well, I don't like it!" he proclaimed far too loudly, stabbing the air with his finger for emphasis and pacing before her. Hermione turned her attention back to Ron and absentmindedly turned the sparkling ring on her left hand like she always did when he was being ridiculous. Really she couldn't help but frown, her large brown eyes watching him pace in frustration before her. Grunting a little she pulled herself off of the bed, extracting her body from the pile of clothes surrounding her and setting her bare feet on the carpet of their bedroom.

"Ron." She said firmly, stopping him mid-pace with her body and burying her face in his chest, her arms moving around his torso in a firm and reassuring hug. He froze for quite a few moments, but eventually gave in, securing his long arms around her shoulders and curving his shoulders to make up for her lesser height. Warm freckled cheek rested on the top of her head, and he breathed in deeply, obviously taking a very big effort to calm himself. It warmed Hermione's heart to see him trying so hard to understand for her. Ron could at times be a little rough around the edges, but at least he constantly tried harder for her.

"Just don't worry," Hermione said with an easy smile, pulling away and tilting her face upwards to place a small kiss on his lips, "by the time I'm back it will have felt like no time at all to you. It won't be more than a few days or even a few hours. I promise. The only downside to this arrangement is my travel companion…"

"It's just that, Herm. I really wouldn't care that much if you weren't going with the Ferret. Can't Harry or I go and simply take Polyjuice Potion or disguise ourselves?"

Hermione shook her head, frowning deeply. She wished it was that simple, but playing with time was a very delicate and tricky game. It had to be her and Draco; she wasn't sure why, but it just had to be. Every time she doubted it, tried her hardest to think of an alternative, she could feel the air around her bristling as if the fabric of time itself was stretching at the seams. It was just the way things _had_ to happen. She did her best to explain this to Ron.

"For whatever reason, Malfoy and I are meant to go back in time. It must be the two of us; if things don't happen as close as possible to the way they already have, it could mean very drastic consequences for the Order and all of wizarding kind…"

"But Hermione, he's the biggest arsehole I've ever-"

"I _know_ Ron," Hermione threw her hands up, not exactly enjoying being reminded of the horrific task she was about to undertake, "you think I asked for it to be Malfoy? I'm looking forward to this about as much as I look forward to snuggling with a blast-ended skrewt."

Ron bristled as snuggling was mentioned, his eyebrows raising dangerously towards disappearing into his hairline and Hermione couldn't help but roll her eyes. He had such a one-track mind.

"Ron, don't worry. Malfoy may be a complete and total idiot, but we're both adult entertainers, sort of, and professionals. I'm sure we'll have no problem putting aside our differences and handling this situation with the utmost maturity and poise."

"I don't wanna goooooooooooooooo," Draco Malfoy whined loudly on his bed, rolling back and forth, his mouth muffled by the pillow in which he had stuffed his face.

"Vere exactly eez it you are going again, Draco?" Yelena, the leggy and bloody unfairly gorgeous Russian model that Draco was currently dating* (*see, fucking) was sitting on the side of the bed, watching him with raised eyebrows and a somewhat amused smirk. His answer was almost entirely inaudible, his face still stuffed in his large down feather pillow. After a few moments of ranting Yelena poked him hard on the shoulder, frowning and opening her full, beautiful lips.

"I cannot eer you, Draco," she said firmly, trying her hardest to seem stern. "'onestly, you can be such a little boy."

Draco poked his tongue out at her, rolling over onto his back and staring at his bedroom ceiling. One of his hands tucked itself behind her head and the other ambled over to absentmindedly stroke her thigh.

"I said that I unfortunately cannot tell you anything at all about where I'm going or what I'm to be doing there, Dearie. The details of my mission are absolutely Top Secret and whatnot. On a need to know basis and you, while very delectable and tempting, do not need to know."

Yelena frowned and pouted her full mouth and Draco almost felt a little guilty for leaving her. Much more than that he just felt irritated with the fact that he was leaving this beautiful and delicious sex goddess in order to spend an inordinate amount of time with Buck-toothed Granger of all people. It was ruddy unfair, was what it was, and he found it increasingly difficult to believe that he'd accepted such a mission. The glamour of saving the world really only lasted for so long, and for Draco it had already run out completely.

"But…" Yelena started, crawling over onto Draco until she was straddling him, "vat exactly am I supposed to do until you come back?"

Draco took in her sparkling blue eyes and the devilish grin on her pouty lips and couldn't help but match it with a wide and electric smirk. "I suppose, my darling, that I'll just have to give you something to think about until my return…"

"It's just… I'm going to miss you, Hermione…" Ron said timidly, ears flushing as he stared into the most convenient corner of the room with ferocity. Hermione found it equal parts amusing and sad that he still had a difficult time with emotionally intimate moments after all these years. They _lived_ together for Merlin's sake, and were going to be getting married in… well, in four months his time. Hermione sighed at this thought, trying her best not to frown. She'd been waiting long enough for this wedding as it was, and now she might have to wait up to four more years?

"I know, Ron. I'm going to miss you too. But I swear it won't seem but a moment to y-" she was cut off as Ron grabbed her by the sides of her face, kissing her with a surprising ferocity that they usually reserved for special occasions. She was completely caught off-guard and stumbled backwards a little, smiling but wide-eyed and lifting her hand to her mouth. Beneath her t-shirt her breasts were heaving upwards as she attempted to catch her breath.

"What in Merlin's name was that about?" she asked, but Ron interrupted her once more, catching her by her wrist and in an awkward attempt at a show of manliness pushing her roughly onto the bed. He slid on top of her, kissing down her neck and sliding her t-shirt to the side.

"I just don't want you to forget about me when you're with that pretty boy Malfoy," Ron said into her hair, practically panting on top of her. Hermione couldn't hold in her laughter, and it barked out from her chest in two loud peals.

"_Malfoy?_ Are you serious? Trust me, Ron, you have nothing to worry abou-" but she was cut off yet again by Ron's wet lips, moving on top of her mouth with a slight desperation. Hermione, though far more off guard than she typically preferred to be with intimate moments, did her best to catch herself and respond as best she could on such short notice…

Draco rolled Yelena over with ease, perched carefully between her thighs and using one hand to keep himself up on his satin sheets, the other roaming its way up her bare thigh and inside the hem of her dress to cup her pert ass. Yelena growled in his ear and Draco thrust against her hips in response, re-assuring his dominance though honestly loving a woman who fought back. She whimpered once more like a wounded animal but smiled, grazing her teeth against his neck as he moved his hand up to roughly grab her breast.

"Ow! Ron, what in Merlin's name are you doing?" Hermione cried out as Ron moved his hand away from her panty-clad ass. His face flushed and he looked sheepish.

"I, um, spanked you… I thought girls liked that?" Hermione looked at him, and it was her turn to blush, eyes wide in embarrassment and slight confusion.

"I don't know who told you that but… look, let's stick to what we know best, okay?" She smiled down into his face, kissing him gently before he could nod in response or even argue.

"Handcuffs? Oh, you are my dirty little girl, aren't you?" Draco leered as Yelena produced two pairs and a blindfold, setting them on the bed before slipping off her tiny black excuse for a dress. Her chest was bare and she was left in nothing but a black thong, grinning her most sultry grin at the blonde wizard before sliding back and spreading her hands towards his bedposts.

"Should we turn the light off?" Hermione asked, gnawing her lip as she looked up at an almost naked Ron positioned on top of her. In the lamp light, his freckled body seemed to glow and radiate warmth. It made Hermione smile, running one hand up and down the side of his soft torso.

"Does it matter?" He asked, pulling his face back from kissing her breasts and looking up at her with wide blue eyes. "I mean, we can just leave it on, it's not a big deal…"

"Yeah but… I dunno, my body is all squishy in certain positions and if you see it might turn you off or something…"

Ron rolled his eyes, moving down to kiss her stomach and moving even further South with an expression that made his fiancé very nervous. "You're beautiful, Hermione. We can do it with the light on, I like to see you…"

"Augh, yes, call me your big fucking dragon!" Draco cried out as he thrust into Yelena, the handcuffs still on one of her wrists and the blindfold hanging around her neck as he balanced her on top of her, both of them sitting on the edge of the bed.

"You are ze champion of sex, Draco! Oh God, God yes!" she practically shouted, pulling his platinum hair roughly as she bounced up and down with a relentless ferocity on his lap. Her long legs were wrapped around his waist and she used them like pistons to move up and down relentlessly on his cock.

"Fuck! That's right slut, tell me more!"

"Oh Merlin, Ron, yes!" Hermione cried out as he moved on top of her, holding himself onto one elbow while the spare hand fondled her breast. He was panting and moaning into the pillow and her face was tucked into his neck, which she was kissing and gently nipping at playfully.

"Mione I can't… I can't go much longer…" he said, grunting a few times as he moved his hand down to her hip for leverage. "I'm getting pretty c-c-close."

"N-no, not yet I'm not there, just wait!" she exclaimed, wrapping her legs around his waist and pulling him in deeper.

Yelena screamed Draco's name as they finished up, his hips slamming into hers with a bruising force. They seemed to be grunting and sighing for minutes afterwards before they finally collapsed, Yelena falling back against his pillows and Draco sitting on the corner of the bed, running his hands through his hair.

"Vere are you going, Draco?" she asked sleepily, her blue eyes lolling as she struggled between the realm of being awake and asleep.

"Are you kidding darling?" he said with a smirk. "I still have to pack."

"So, you, um, got there, right?" Ron was lying behind her as he spoke into her hair, his long arm draped over her stomach. Hermione winced a little at the question, pausing for a long moment before rolling over and propping herself up on her elbow.

"Yes," she said with a smile, kissing him on the tip of his long nose, "of course."

"Good." He said with a smile, attempting to pull her closer by her waist and nuzzle his face into her shoulder before she stopped him with a firm hand on his chest. "What? What's wrong?" Ron asked, his smile immediately melting into a frown as she pulled away from him and began to slip on her panties.

"Nothing's wrong at all," Hermione assured him, slipping her t-shirt on over her bare breasts and reaching back for her wand on the nightstand. With a gentle swish her clothing floated back up from its pile on the floor, having been knocked over from their sudden bought of passion, and she re-directed it straight into her trunk, watching carefully as they folded themselves neatly on top of her books and other school supplies. Only one set of school robes, along with her uniform and head girl's badge, remained resting peacefully on the chair next to the nightstand.

"Oh." Was all Ron managed before he succumbed to his exhaustion, flopping back onto his pillow and snoring in less than a minute. Hermione smiled down at her sleeping fiancé warmly, patting him on the cheek and pulling herself off of the bed to inspect for the umpteenth time the contents of her trunk. If she forgot something, she couldn't simply owl home for it. Her parents would be in Australia, and Mrs. Weasley would certainly be confused and difficult to deal with if she received an owl from Hermione asking to send a few pairs of socks and a toothbrush.

Draco had to wait until Yelena was asleep to pull out his wand, painfully pulling out trousers and sweaters with his hands and folding them on the empty spot of his massive bed. She took so long to finally drift off into dreamland that he was beginning to get a little irate, and was considering giving her some sleeping draught disguised as tea when she finally slipped off into a deep slumber. Nodding with satisfaction, Draco quietly maneuvered his old school trunk from out of his closet, his clothes soaring over his head and folding themselves somewhat haphazardly in the large space. A few times Yelena stirred and he paused, preparing to find some way to distract her or throw a blanket over his wide trunk, but she simply rolled over and continued breathing softly.

With magic it took only ten minutes or so to pack his things and he checked his trunk. The books from his seventh year were still stacked on the bottom, and his robes, clothing and uniforms were all stacked as neatly as he cared. Gently he extracted a pair of slacks, sweater, crisp white shirt and green and silver tie. He stashed all of these, along with a pair of robes, in a separate bag to change into in the morning once his Muggle girlfriend was gone. His trunk he carefully transfigured into a large Muggle suitcase so as not to arouse suspicion from his nosy little Russian in the morning.

With everything packed, the situation before him seemed much more real than he'd care for it to be. With a resounding finality he set his suitcase/trunk next to his bed with a dull _thud_, frowning down at it for a long time before slipping into bed and putting out the light. He hadn't yet reached the point of no return, but it was getting uncomfortably close.

Hermione closed her trunk with a snap, patting the top of it gently and scanning the room to ensure she hadn't missed anything. Once she was satisfied that everything was packed, nothing missed, and she was fully prepared for the journey ahead, she climbed into bed with her fiancé sighing as she moved into him and put out the light.

"You done packing?" Ron asked sluggishly, the sleep in his voice slurring his words. Hermione nodded, pressing back into him, enjoying the warmth of his body.

"Yes," she said with a sigh, "all ready to go."

Ron moved a bit behind her, shifting closer against her. "Are you?" he asked heavily, and Hermione frowned into the darkness of their room. The silence that passed between them was long, and Hermione was sure Ron had fallen asleep by the time she whispered her answer.

"Yes," she affirmed the black night before her eyes unconvincingly, "of course."


	3. TIME IS RELATIVE

Author's Note: Thank you very much for all of your reviews, I appreciate them more than I can say. aviendha, yeah in the last chapter the staccato glimpses were more to emphasize the dichotomy between draco and hermione's sex lives, as that's obviously going to come into play later. ;] but yeah, as you'll see in this chapter, there's much less jumping back and forth as they're now interacting and on one storyline, so to speak. Also I'm sorry this chapter was so slow-coming, but life got in the way. :[ hopefully I didn't lose any of you!

CHAPTER THREE: TIME IS RELATIVE

Six A.M. came far too quickly for Hermione's tastes, and she found herself briefly cursing her and Ron's little diversion, as it had pushed back her bedtime much further than she'd cared for it to. Groaning as her Muggle alarm clock went off on the bedside table, she groped in the darkness for the small plastic device assaulting her ears with its electronic screeching. After what felt like a lifetime she managed to find the button and press down hard, rubbing her eyes and extracting herself from Ron's limbs.

She groaned once more as she sat up, the room spinning as all the blood rushed to her head and she rubbed her eyes sleepily. Outside the sun had only just barely begun to flirt with the horizon, and it was still dark enough in the room for it to take quite a while for her eyes to adjust. When she could finally see the outlines of the furniture in her room she pulled the sheets off, swinging her legs around and setting her feet on the carpet. Another few moments were spent just like that, rubbing her temples gingerly as she braced herself for standing up.

It was amazing how going through your morning routine was just the same on any old morning as it was on the life-changing ones. You brushed your teeth with the same motions, washed your face with the same water, and tamed your hair with the same hair brush. Yet it all felt much more poignant as you prepared to do something important. As Hermione straightened her gold and red striped tie, watching herself in the mirror, she wondered to herself how many times she'd done this exact same motion without it meaning anything. As she slid the buttons of her dark grey cardigan through their respective holes, the action felt so engrained in her fingers and yet so peculiar to be doing it today, here and now.

Slipping on her crimson-lined robes and adjusting them accordingly, Hermione couldn't help but feel seventeen again, beaming with pride as she fixed her gleaming silver badge emblazoned with the letters 'HG'. Being Head Girl was something she'd dreamed about since she'd stepped through Hogwarts' front doors, and a dream she'd resigned as unachievable. Sure, in the aftermath of the war the position had been offered to her by Professor McGonagall in the event that Hermione decided to return to her studies, but there was far more good for her to do outside of her school than in it. After the war the heaps of reconstruction to be done in the wizarding world made it impossible for Hermione to be selfish and go back for a year of school when she'd already learned more on her own than she ever could within the castle's stone walls.

Draco ran his hands through his hair slowly, groaning as he looked at the clock on his nightstand. It read a time he'd only seen in the PM in the last few years, and he was not looking forward to another year or so of wake-up times such as this. In the bed behind him Yelena was snoozing peacefully, and Draco didn't see fit to wake her up, wanting instead to just get ready and slip out unnoticed. If she was this deep into sleep he figured he might as well put on his old school uniform and hope for the best. Odds were in the bleary-eyed dark she wouldn't notice he was dressed as a school boy.

Wearily he performed his morning ritual in his brightly-lit bathroom, splashing cold water on his face and shaving carefully, remembering that he had to look the part. While he still looked very young, he had far greater amounts of blonde stubble which only called attention to the far better and manlier definition of his jaw as a twenty-one-year-old. He ran the backs of his fingers over his smooth cheeks once finished, amazed at what a difference it made and how baby-faced he looked in comparison.

Slipping on his trousers, then his white shirt, belt, tie and green-lined robes, Draco couldn't help but feel just a little bit like his old self; that is, the seventeen-year-old he would have been if his family hadn't been ransacked by Voldemort's reign of terror. Loosening his tie just enough to give himself that renegade devil-may-care look and un-buttoning his top button, Draco winked at himself in the mirror, running his hands through his hair and nodding with a smirk.

"You are one devilishly handsome man," he affirmed his reflection, blowing himself a kiss before turning back to his bedroom and quickly grabbing his trunk-turned-suitcase before the bathroom light could even wake Yelena up. After setting down the good-bye note he'd penned the night before on his pillow he slipped easily out of his bedroom door, making his way over to his kitchen and grabbing an apple out of his fruit bowl. The clock on his Muggle microwave, an unfortunate rudimentary necessity, read quarter-til-seven. He grumbled a little, resigning his fruit to be to-go and heading for his front door with his baggage.

Behind him, his school robe billowed with every step, and he admitted he'd missed the way it used to swish around his legs. On his chest, the silver badge with the initials 'HB' shone brightly and he couldn't help but bask a little in its light. He was actually Head Boy. He'd always expected it to happen, sure, but once he'd had to leave Hogwarts and enter the protection of the Order of the Phoenix it was simply a reality he'd never had the chance to make happen. And now here it was, as it had been all along. That was the one bit of good in this pot of shit, he supposed. That he, Draco Malfoy, was finally going to get what he deserved.

"Ron," Hermione whispered at his figure, poking him gently as she stood at the side of the bed. Ron grumbled, rolling over so that he was facing her and frowning in the light coming from their bathroom.

"What?" he asked, words slurred with sleep, "whatissit?"

"I'm leaving now," she said quietly, brushing a strand of bright red hair off of his forehead, "I don't know when I'll be back, but I'll see you soon I hope. In your time at least…"

Ron seemed to momentarily forget what she was talking about and it took him a few moments to process, the light of recognition finally hitting his face after some time. He said nothing, but rather reached out with one long arm and pulled Hermione into him, holding her to him like that. It was awkward positioning, but surprisingly comfortable, and Hermione rested her face in the curve of Ron's neck as he hugged her to his chest. Admittedly she very much wanted to cry, throw a tantrum and stay right there and let someone else go on this ruddy awful mission. But she knew she had a duty to fulfill, and it was time to be a big girl. She was twenty-one now, and she'd been more adult about decisions like this when she was seventeen. Then again, at seventeen she'd been defiant and fearless, and now she was returning to that time with the horrible knowledge of the truth of the world.

"I love you," Ron whispered into her hair, kissing her shoulder before releasing her from his grip. Hermione could feel her eyes watering dangerously and she patted his cheek, smiling and swallowing hard.

"I love you too. I'll be home soon, I swear." Ron simply smiled as she said this and dropped his head back on the pillow. In a matter of moments he was snoring once again, and Hermione straightened herself up, wiping away the few spare tears that had managed to stray past the dam of her eyelid. This was no time for tears; this was the time for a stiff upper lip. This was the time for Hermione of the Golden Trio: the resourceful girl genius who powered through with little thought to her own well-being or emotions. That girl was still inside her somewhere…

Draco reached the Apparation point down the lane from Grimmauld Place at ten 'til seven, icy grey eyes locked on the roofs of the line of Muggle flats around him. He watched as he passed between numbers seven, eight, nine, ten and eleven, stopping still at the gap between buildings eleven and thirteen.

"_Really?_" Draco said in the most exasperated voice possible. Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, home to Harry Potter and now-and-then headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, was no longer under the wards to keep it hidden from Death Eaters and other such individuals as it had been in the past. However, the protective charms placed upon it years prior could often be rather finicky, and would sometimes decide at random to prevent not only Muggles but anyone from gaining access to the house. Draco groaned, throwing his head back in an unconscious channeling of the seventeen-year-old role he was meant to be playing and fished in his bag for the slip of paper with the code phrase on it. Potter'd given it to him years ago, but this had only happened once or twice since then, and he'd always had a member of the Order with him when it had.

"Fucking brilliant," Draco shouted, and a cat in a nearby alley skittered away as he disturbed the early morning air. Well this was hardly ideal. Here he was, early, and completely buggered. Shut out and screwed. He could only hope that someone would remember he was supposed to be there and think to go looking for him.

A loud pop from the alleyway a hundred yards down made Draco perk up, hoping that it was a member of the Order arrived late to let him in and help him out. However as the head of sunny brown curls, resting around a crimson-lined robe appeared Draco couldn't help but groan. Watching Hermione walk determinedly towards him as she was, nose in the sky and red-and-gold tie blazing at him like a beacon of obnoxious Gryffindorism, he felt very much as if they were already back in school.

"Please, Granger," he said as soon as her lips parted. His fingers darted up to the bridge of his nose, pinching as he pressed his eyes close hard and grimaced. "It is far too early in the morning to listen to your ungodly moaning. So please just shut your know-it-all mouth and make the house show up."

Hermione's eyes widened as he spoke, and then narrowed, choosing to tactfully ignore his comments and turning to face the gap between number thirteen and eleven where the residence of her best friend typically rested, unseen to the Muggle eye. She wrinkled her nose, pulling out her wand and pointing it at the space between the two buildings. They really ought to do something about that faulty old charm, it was an absolute nuisance.

"Number Twelve Grimmauld Place is the home of Harry Potter, heir to the legacy of Sirius Black and purveyor of his estate."

Draco looked at her, disbelief in his eyes as the building spread before them like a sponge in water. "_That's it?_ All I have to do is ruddy say that the house belongs to Potter and it just shows up?"

Hermione simply threw Draco a condescending smirk and a shrug, making her way up to the front door and stepping daintily onto the stoop. She knocked gently three times, not wanting to ring the bell if it was too early and Ginny was still fast asleep. They were standing there a minute or so before anyone showed up, and Hermione was lifting her hands to knock once more when a disheveled looking Harry yanked open the door. He was still rubbing his glasses on his shirt, and his hair was sticking out ridiculously at the back of his head. Still, he was a sight for sore eyes, and a beaming Hermione moved forward to hug him firmly.

"Hey there, 'Mione," he said with a warm smile, sliding his glasses on over her shoulder before hugging her back. His green eyes moved up over Hermione's back to Draco's, and he simply nodded once, acknowledging the other wizard's presence but granting him very little familiar comfort. This was just fine by Draco. While the two boys were now grown men, and for the most part rarely resigned themselves to the petty disputes of their past, they still held a general dislike for each other, and neither was totally comfortable in the other's presence.

"Ahm, come on in…" Harry offered after a sleepy moment, pulling back from Hermione and stepping against the wall to allow her and Draco to pass into his home. As Hermione stepped into the welcoming house, her past so close on the horizon of her future, she couldn't help but remember the Grimmauld Place of her youth. The home of her best friend was so different from the shabby and neglected house in Sirius's care that it seemed, apart from the architecture, to be a different building entirely. The walls of the front hallway were now lined with photographs of Harry, Ginny, their families and friends. The photograph of Mrs. Black had been bricked over when Ginny had finally had enough of her yelping, and the house elf heads had been respectfully transported to the basement for storage. It had taken a large sum of galleons and an even larger investment of time, but the Potters, with the help of a few easily-guilted friends, had transformed the house into something inviting and comfortable.

"Remus is in the kitchen. Kreacher insisted on making the lot of you a spot of breakfast before you left, so we'll meet up in there so you can go over the plan," Harry yawned, leading the way down into the kitchen/dining area that glowed in the semi-darkness in a most inviting way.

"Mistress Granger, Master Malfoy!" Kreacher called out with excitement as he set down a massive tray of sausages on the table before a surprisingly chipper-looking Lupin. The werewolf and reinstated professor helped himself greedily, smiling up at the newcomers as he forked a few sausages onto his already laden plate.

"Well come in then, have a bite before we get down to business," Lupin said with laughter in his voice, obviously trying his damndest to alleviate the tension of the situation. Hermione and Draco stepped forward with slight reluctance, taking opposite sides of the table and ignoring each other as entirely as possible as they lifted food from the trays before them onto their own plates.

"Alrighty then," Lupin started as Harry took a seat next to Hermione with a cup of tea in hand. "I know we've gone over the plan roughly with you individually, but let's go over it now that we're all together."

We'll be sending you back to what would have been your seventh year at Hogwarts to act as Head Girl and Boy there. According to a number of accounts, you were both present at Hogwarts during this time despite your recollected endeavors elsewhere during that time. As of late there has been a palpable shift in the very fabric of time around us, and the Order has become concerned that it has to do with your remaining in the present-"

"Do we _really_ need more exposition?" Draco drawled, and Hermione shot him a look that was daggers in her eyes as she deftly buttered a biscuit.

"I'm almost done, I just want to eliminate plot holes," Lupin said, his good cheer slipping just a bit into a tone of the slightest irritation. Harry and Hermione exchanged looks of confusion as to his meaning, but shrugged it off and returned their attention to their former professor.

"Anyways, we'll be sending you back by Time Turner. It's not ideal, as you'll have to wait it out until the present, but it's the only confirmed safe means of time travel that we've developed to this point. Now here's the important part. It is _imperative_ that while in the past, you two do all you can to ensure that your true pasts are more or less unaffected. Nobody can know that you're from the future, or anything about your mission. Unfortunately we don't have much more to tell you about your mission besides that as we have no idea what may have happened the first time you went back-"

"The first time?" It was Harry's turn to interject now, rubbing his temples as his coffee began to do its work.

"Yes Harry, the first time. Look Time Travel's awfully complicated and it's really necessary that we just get to King's Cross and get going so enough of that." Lupin took a swig from his goblet and then stood up, dusting himself off and gratefully accepting the robes that Kreacher was offering him. "Off we go then, come along…"

The four of them headed for the door, Harry catching Hermione's wrist before she was on the stoop so that the other two carried on in front of them. "Hermione, hang on a second," his voice and eyes were filled with concern as he turned her to face him, Lupin glancing back and obviously catching on as he pulled Draco around the corner to the Apparition point.

"Look, I just want you to be careful. Remember that even though you've apparently been to the past, something could still happen to you. I mean this you. And I want you to come back safely. Can you just do that for me? Be safe and watch out for yourself?"

Hermione nodded, eyes tearing up just a little and one or two rogue tears slipping past the dam of her lids. She wiped them away quickly, smiling just a little. Harry lifted his hand and rubbed her cheek fondly, tilting her head down to plant a kiss on her forehead.

"And watch your ass around Malfoy. I know he's helped us out a bit, but I don't trust him one fecking ounce; especially not living so close to you." Hermione snorted just a little, rolling her eyes at the very idea of what Harry was implying.

"Trust me Harry, it's a non-issue. If he's anything but a stellar gentleman, he'll be wondering exactly what sort of book held such demented and perverse curses as are being emitted from my wand." A warm smile curved the corner of Hermione's lips upwards, and Harry couldn't help but laugh, the seriousness on his face slipping into a look of relief.

"Just take care of yourself," he patted her cheek affectionately, and Hermione had to hug him goodbye and leave the house quickly to avoid another unnecessary onslaught of tears. She waved to goodbye until she was out of sight, sighing as she rounded the corner to a disgruntled looking Draco glaring at Lupin and obviously irritable.

"Merlin, could you have taken longer?" he grumbled, the werewolf elbowing him hard in his ribs and clapping Hermione on the shoulder.

"You alright then? Ready to head out?" Hermione nodded, smiling gratefully up at Lupin and casting Draco a hateful look before turning on the spot for their Apparition point outside of King's Cross. Malfoy and Lupin followed close behind, dusting themselves off once they gained ground on the concrete out by the dumpsters.

"Right then, off we go," Lupin said with a nod, heading for the street entrance to the massive train station at a brisk pace. Hermione and Draco followed both carrying transfigured versions of their trunks that were more suitably transportable, their school robes swishing around them and as usual gathering a small bit of attention from the few stragglers in the early morning air. It was probably nearing eight at this point, and the morning commuters were beginning to flood into the train station. The three of them slid in with the people clad in business suits too busy to notice the queerly dressed trio and made their way into the station, easily tucking into a free reception area and casting a confounding charm to keep their privacy.

"Okay, since very little is known about time travel we wanted to cover as many of our bases as possible so that we had a little wiggle room here. That's why we're at King's Cross so early; to ensure that you two are already in the location you need to be with enough time to avoid a fault number of turns." Lupin pulled a long gold chain out from under his robes, at the bottom of which was a round dial encasing a spinning hourglass. He carefully slid it from around his neck, handing it to Hermione who just as carefully threw the chain around her own.

"How many turns then?" Hermione asked as she let the Time Turner fall against her breast, running her finger absentmindedly over the smooth gold.

"We've done quite a bit of calculating, and we think about thirty ought to get you within proper range of the train leaving for Hogwarts. We could be wrong, of course, but this is the best we're going to be able to do…"

"Oh wow, well that's confidence-inducing," Draco drawled icily, moving towards Hermione with the look of someone sniffing spoiled milk and reaching to move the chain around his neck. They had to stand uncomfortably close, and he stooped down just slightly in order to make up for his greater height. It would have been an extremely comical sight if each party's hatred for the other wasn't so clearly written on their faces.

"Oh, Hermione, here's a letter then for Professor McGonagall. And one for Professor Snape for you, Draco. Obviously there are bound to be a few people who will be intersecting both of your lives, so it's imperative that we head them off as quickly as possible. You must find the both of them as soon as you get on the train and intercept them with these letters before they can complicate things and risk the fabric of time tearing more than it already may have. I'm sure they'll be on the train for crowd control and to generally keep the peace. You shouldn't have much trouble searching them out."

Hermione nodded with purpose in her eyes, while Draco just huffed. This was all annoyingly complicated and really rather ridiculous, and he was getting sick of playing all of these Order games of "imperative" and "of the utmost importance" and all this life or death bullshit. Didn't these people get bored of playing hero?

"Well we'd better get on then, hum? Burning valuable time here, or something like that…" Granger blinked up at him with this stupid doe-eyed look like she was just waking up, the wide-eyed look rather adorable for the moment it lasted before her large brown eyes narrowed at him.

"No, Hermione, Draco's absolutely right. I shouldn't keep the two of you any longer. Good luck to you, and we're all hoping to see you in the very near future. We have the utmost faith in you." Lupin smiled at Hermione warmly, patting her once more on the shoulder before stepping back and allowing Hermione to turn the hourglass in her long fingers. She counted carefully, not letting the hourglass slip from her fingers until she'd turned it exactly thirty times.

Draco had never actually seen a Time Turner before, and he couldn't help but marvel just a little at its affects as they rapidly watched five years' worth of activity pass before their eyes in tandem with the whizzing hourglass. People streaming into the room, interacting, kissing goodbye, the lights flickering, janitors cleaning, people fighting, people embracing, people sleeping. All the activity of the last five years flew by them in a way that was really rather marvelous until all at once time stopped. Time felt lethargic as it moved by in its normal pace, and it took a few moments for Draco to become accustomed. Hermione likewise blinked heavily, shaking her head and finally reaching up to slip the Time Turner from around Draco's neck and tucking it in her blouse.

"What's the time?" Hermione said, more to herself as she searched the room for a clock. She found it easily, mounted up on the wall, and read that the time was nine-thirty in the morning. About half an hour before the train left for Hogwarts; they'd actually made it. She smiled widely, throwing the door open and heading out into the throng of people. As a businessman passed she spied the newspaper tucked into his bag, and she pinched it off him easily, flipping it open and taking in the date with an ever-broadening smile.

Malfoy had just made his way to the door, dazed a bit from the affects of time travel and unable to keep up with Hermione momentarily. He glanced down at the newspaper over her shoulder, obviously checking for the date as well.

"Merlin," he said with a half-cocked smile on his face, almost forgetting his reason for being in the past entirely and purely excited that their plan had for some reason worked. "Merlin! September first, 1997! We made it!"

Hermione turned around, a wide grin splitting her face. "I know! Isn't it incredible? Oh I do hope they saved that formula, who knows what possibilities there could be with more precise time travel a reality!" She could have hugged Malfoy with joy until she remembered that he was, wait a tick, _Malfoy_. Ugh, what the fuck was wrong with her? Hermione's blonde counterpart seemed to have the same revelation, and he stepped back a foot from the curly-haired girl, his lip curling just slightly.

"Right, well, let's off to the platform then. We still need to find Professors Snape and McGonagall as soon as possible, and make out way onto the train if we're to fulfill our duties as Head Boy and Girl." He said briskly, making his way down the platforms towards the gap between platforms nine and ten. Hermione followed, shoes clicking on the tile, and a small frown on her pink lips. Would it really be such a shame for them to get along? It wasn't that she blamed him entirely- after all, she'd had the exact same habitual reaction to their brief moment of friendliness. And why? What was so wrong with it?

"Come along then, Granger, just because you Muggleborns aren't as light of foot as we classy folk doesn't mean I'll sit around waiting on my arse whilst you dally like a fool."

Ah, right. How could she forget. It was so wrong because he was a complete and total git.


End file.
